your rails have always outrun mine
by delectorskayas
Summary: Narcissa doesn't think that she can call it love when it's so deep a part of her, sat in her bones for so many years that the word has long ceased to have any meaning. NarcissaBellatrixRodolphus. Warning for incest.


**Well, I never thought that I'd be writing an incest fic, but I blame Game of Thrones and Gamma Orionis, for whom this was written! **

* * *

_**one.**_

Even before she starts at Hogwarts, Narcissa is the only Black sister to be particularly interested in all the relics of the Black family past.

Andromeda never really cares about all of that, and Bellatrix has the entire family tree memorized from the age of six, but Narcissa still likes to go to the library and run her fingers along the leather spines before selecting the heavy volume containing the Black family history. She likes to sit solemnly in one of the wing-back chairs by the fireplace, turning the fragile pages and murmuring all the names under her breath like spells. She likes to stand in front of the tapestry that was at least twice as tall as her and trace her finger gently across her own name, then Andy's and Bella's, and then up to the highest branches that she can reach. Up to a time when brother and sister were joined in marriage, knotting the branches on the family tree tighter with every generation.

_**two.**_

One day when Narcissa has run weeping from one of Druella's dinners after several too many snide comments from Lucius Malfoy (now that they are almost betrothed, the adults will let anything pass), Bellatrix follows her.

"I'd never let him marry you, Cissy," she says, with all the authority of an eleven year-old who has her own wand now, thank you very much. "I'd sooner marry you myself to keep you safe from him."

"I wish you could," Narcissa whispers, and Bella squeezes her hand.

_**three.**_

Narcissa has always shared a bedroom with Bellatrix and Andromeda, so the changes are jarring, first when they leave for Hogwarts and then when she leaves too, exchanging the big cold bedroom with floral wallpaper for a dormitory with five other girls. She is used to being able to creep in with Bella or Andy if she can't sleep or has a nightmare. Andy is restless and always kicks in her sleep, but Bella keeps herself awake, digging her nails into the back of her hand, until she is sure that Narcissa was soundly asleep again.

Now Narcissa hugs a pillow against herself, and wakes in the night with her own hand covering her mouth to stop the screams when her dreams wake her.

_**four.**_

It's her sixteenth birthday and she's supposed to be getting ready for dinner, but instead she's pressed back into one of the library's large armchairs, her skirt tugged up around her waist and her sister's knee between her thighs.

Bellatrix digs her nails into her arms, bites down on her shoulder, and it hurts but the pain's good, it's right, and as Narcissa arches her back she thinks that she can feel it sinking deep into her bones.

_**five.**_

He is better than his brother, at least.

Rodolphus is handsome enough to match a Black, although Narcissa is certain that Bella outshines him. She wears a white dress and for once plays the part of the modest pureblood daughter beautifully, ducking her head to avoid Rodolphus' eyes and smiling sweetly at her new parents-in-law.

"Love you, Bella," Narcissa whispers into her bridesmaid bouquet, and pretends that it's right and that it's easy and that it will all work out.

_**six.**_

"Do you -" Narcissa says, then pauses. "Do you think they've spent the night together yet?"

Andromeda rolls her eyes. "Don't be naïve, they must have done. It's Bella's job to - what was it - 'continue our family line and bring honour to the noble name of Black'." Her imitation of their mother is almost perfect, but there's an edge to her voice that is constant now, and Narcissa doesn't like it.

"You don't suppose she's pregnant yet, do you?"

"Oh, Cissy, I should think it's highly unlikely. Leave me alone." And Andromeda twists away from Narcissa, holding her book higher in front of her face.

Andy is drifting and Bella is gone, and that is enough to make it seem as though the moon had dropped from the sky.

_**seven.**_

Sometimes Narcissa wakes from dreams of branches wrapped around her wrists like Devil's Snare. In her dreams she thanks them for holding her up even as they dry and crack, clutching at them as they unravel until there's nothing to cling to and she's falling falling _falling_

_**eight.**_

She doesn't fall.

She marries Lucius Malfoy, her hands clutched into fists throughout their wedding day until, by the evening, her nails have left bruises. Bellatrix is there with Rodolphus, her wrist-length sleeves covering the brand that Narcissa knows marks her arm now, far more meaningful to her than the ring on her fourth finger.

She waits at Malfoy Manor while Lucius spends long nights away with Bellatrix and Rodolphus and his brother and scores of others. She doesn't keep track of the names. She's stopped reading the _Daily Prophet_ now.

On the increasingly rare occasions that she sees her older sister, Bellatrix is half-enchanted by those nights and by _him_. Her eyes are wide and her hair is wild, and Narcissa is sure that there's regret in Rodolphus' eyes, even though he tries to hide it.

Narcissa stares at Bellatrix's star-filled eyes as she talks faster, her cheeks unnaturally pink, on and on about the Dark Lord who will save them all.

_Oh, my protector warrior queen, what has he done to you?_

(She cannot say his name, this man who has stolen what was hers.)

_**nine.**_

She and Rodolphus sleep together once, when Bellatrix has been gone for over a month and Narcissa almost aches with missing her voice.

It's brief and gentle (neither of them could replicate Bellatrix if they tried) and, if anything can make her feel fixed to somebody, surely it's worth doing. Afterwards Rodolphus sends for wine for the two of them and mercifully doesn't comment on Narcissa's red eyes, and then they really sleep together, Narcissa waking early to find her head still resting on Rodolphus' chest.

She never finds out if he loves Bella. The question almost escapes her lips more than once, but she gasps it back down. She doesn't know what answer she wants, and no matter what it is it couldn't change anything. They both know how impossible it is to be in love with beautiful fanatical Bellatrix when she is like this, when she holds the stars in her eyes.

_**ten.**_

Later - much later - Narcissa sometimes thinks that she can hear her sister screaming. Malfoy Manor is filled with the ghosts of people who were never there, flickering just outside her field of vision, and she jerks awake in the middle of the night because it sounds like Bella's just _there_ –

She doesn't think that she can call it love when it's so deep a part of her, sat in her bones for so many years that the word has long ceased to have any meaning.

(Family ties cut deeper than they ought, and pureblood siblings are often wound too close for comfort.)

She wonders if, back when her family tree had been so twisted from brother to sister and back again, they had felt like this. Not right or wrong or anywhere in between, but just existing like the tides and the phases of the moon.


End file.
